Hetalia Men
by doubleox515
Summary: Reader Inserts with many of the crazy, wonderful Hetalia men. May include sexual references, coarse language and lots and lots of fluff. Stories can also be found on Deviantart.
1. Christmas Love

**A/N: Hello everyone! It's been a while since I've done something on here. So, I have decided to share my reader inserts that I have written and posted on Deviantart here. They are my own creations, with the help of requests and my good friend hellodair.**

**So, without further ado, I present my very first reader insert, and it's England!**

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderfulness of Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

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Staring out of the bedroom window, you saw the first few delicate drops of snow fall to the frozen ground below. A feeling of excitement passed through your body; you loved winter more than any other season during the year. You loved the snow, the snowball fights, the nights in front of the fireplace with a hot mug of tea or hot chocolate in your hands but more importantly, you loved the chilly time of year because you got to spend it with your best friend Arthur.

You had known Arthur since the two of you were kids. The moment you saw him, you wanted to be friends immediately, even though he was a bit reluctant at first due to his self-consciousness. Your small, awkward meeting blossomed into a fully-fledged friendship in a matter of weeks and it has stayed like that for several years. The only problem was, the pair of you went to different schools, which made it harder for you to see each other during the school year. That is why the Christmas season is a very substantial time for both of you for you had the entire week to yourselves.

A goofy grin forming on your face, you turned to face your sleeping friend. As tradition, Arthur would come over and reside at your house in Yorkshire for the week, staying for Christmas with your family. Gazing at Arthur, you had to cover your mouth to stop yourself from giggling. He had somehow fallen out of the bed you two shared and was sprawled flat on his back on the carpet. His long, lanky arms were spread out, looking as though he wanted to hug the air around him and his mouth was wide open, little snores emitting from it. Overall, he looked adorable and your heart began to flutter.

Truth was, over the many years you had known him, you had started to develop strong feelings for Arthur. At first you had thought, _no way can I possibly like him. He's my best friend!_ But that had dramatically changed when you finished your first year of high school. You had walked out of the front doors of (name of high school), arms laden with books when you crashed into a figure standing front of you. Looking up, disgruntled, you came face-to-face with none other than Arthur. You remember the way he looked: more handsome than you had ever seen him, his brilliant greens shining with happiness; his strong arms that had wrapped themselves in a hug sent shivers down your spine and the smile that you had craved for months made you melt on the spot.

You got up from your spot at the window and sat crossed-legged next to the snoozing man. Lightly poking his cheek with a petite finger, he gave a quiet groan and wrinkled his nose. Doing it again, he swatted your hand away, causing you to snort in amusement and for him to open his eyes.

'What? Let me sleep,' he muttered, annoyed, before turning away from you and smacking his head on the bed with a powerful _bang_.

'Arthur!' you cried as Arthur moaned in pain. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with one hand and his forehead with the other. The green orbs were still hazy from sleep, his cheeks were flushed with cold and his golden hair was sticking up in every direction imaginable. He sent the bed frame a glare and mumbled, 'Good morning, to you too – git.'

You couldn't help it: you burst out laughing. Arthur gave you a blank expression before tackling you.

'You think it's funny?' he said teasingly, wiggling his fingers threateningly. You froze – Arthur knew how ticklish you were.

'Don't you dare,' you warned, your (e/c) eyes hard as steel. Arthur raised one bushy eyebrow cockily, then lowered his hands and tickled you. You tried pushing him away but your movements were rendered useless and soon, you were laughing with tears of mirth forming at the corners of your eyes.

'S-Stop! S-Stop A-Arthur stop!' you managed to gasp out, holding your splitting sides. Arthur had an evil look on his face and an even more menacing smile on his face.

'I'll stop on one condition,' he whispered, his fingers pausing, his childish expression turning serious. You were suddenly aware of the position you two were in and you felt your face burn in embarrassment.

'W-What?' you stuttered softly, locking your (e/c) gaze onto Arthur's green one.

'Close your eyes,' he said, placing his hands on either side of your head. You could have sworn that at that moment, you resembled a tomato but you obliged to his request. Suddenly, you felt a sensation on your lips and, opening your eyes, were shocked to find that Arthur had his lips pressed to yours.

He pulled away, a new look in his eyes – one that you had never seen in them before: love.

'I've been wanting to do that for a while now,' he admitted, a deep blush forming on his cheeks. You smiled and raised a hand, cupping his face.

'Likewise,' was all you said before you pulled Arthur into a mind-blowing kiss. He responded instantly, a hand disappearing into your (h/l), (h/c) hair as yours messed his blonde hair even more. When it became hard to breathe, you reluctantly broke it, with the biggest grin on your face.

'I love you, (Name)' Arthur said lovingly, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and kissing your cheek. 'From the moment I met you.'

'I love you too, you daft man,' you replied cheekily which resulted in Arthur kissing you once again. You were happy and nothing could change that.

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it: my very first reader insert. Expect some more soon~**

**Also, something I forgot to mention: I apologise for the late updates of ****_The World's Mightiest Heroes _****and ****_What I Desire Most._**** I will update! Just not at the moment D:**

**Reviews are highly appreciated.**


	2. Be My Juliet?

**A/N: Hey guys - it's Valentine's Day! And what a better way than to spend it with Denmark. **

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderfulness of Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

* * *

Looking at the endless couples passing by, a feeling of loneliness panged in your chest. It was yet another Valentine's Day and you, again, had no one to share it with. So there you were, sitting on your own at a café, surrounded by pink hearts and confetti. All you had wanted was a nice, peaceful lunch break before you went back to work, not to be around things like this. That – and someone to be with you.

'And what is a gorgeous young lady – such as yourself – doing on her own here?'

Looking up, startled at the sudden voice, you came face-to-face with your co-worker and best friend, Matthias Køhler. His blue eyes were alight with flirtatiousness and humour and it bought a smile to your face. You had liked the Danish man for years, even before you started working together. You had both attended the same school and university, becoming lifelong friends in a heartbeat.

However, on days like today, you were strongly reminded on how much you had fallen in love with him. His crazy blonde hair, his loud and obnoxiousness personality made you laugh like no one had ever made you laugh; the way he cared for you let you feel like you were the only one in the world that he saw. Everything about him you loved – except perhaps the endless drinking but even then, you couldn't stop the hammering of your heart whenever you were with him.

'Just trying to have some lunch,' you responded quietly, your (e/c) eyes set down on your cup of coffee.

'On your own?' Matthias queried, astonishment in his tone. 'On Valentine's Day? You're crazy.'

He sat in the seat opposite you and took one of your hands in his large ones.

'Pretty women shouldn't ever be left alone – especially on Valentine's Day,' he said ecstatically, his toothy grin wide. 'Well, it's a good thing I'm here then, isn't it?'

You rolled your eyes, despite the smile on your face.

'You're so full of yourself,' you told him, squeezing his hand. He gave you a look of mock offence which made you giggle. 'Anyway, you and I both know that I do not have a boyfriend – or ever will for that matter. And I am not pretty,' you added quietly.

Matthias said nothing. Instead, he reached up and cupped your face, his eyes boring into yours. 'You _are_ pretty and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. Understand?'

You merely nodded for your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour and your cheeks felt warm. As he leant back in his chair, your eyes locked onto his lips and your thoughts wandered: about how they would feel against yours; how they would taste; how they would mold perfectly...

'– and I thought I would deliver it to you,' Matthias said, bringing you out of your fantasy. In his hand, he held out an envelope embroidered with a gold border with (Name) written on the front in a cursive hand. With a muttered 'thank you', you took the letter and opened it, the smell of roses immediately wafting up from the inside. Curiosity taking the better of you, you extracted the paper within and began to read.

_Dear (Name),_

Over the past couple of months, I have realised just how much I admire you: how much I have grown to love you. Your smiles light up my day and your beautiful (e/c) eyes make my heart flutter every time I look at them.

I have never felt this way about anyone before. Ever – and I mean it. You are my true love.

So, that being the case – I doubt I will ever have the courage to tell you this to your face – will you be my Juliet and I your Romeo?

Happy Valentine's Day, (Name)

Lots of love,

Your secret admirer (though not really).

You stared at the letter in shock. _Someone actually likes me?_ You thought incredulously to yourself, your heart beating faster than ever before.

'Well? Who is it?' Matthias wondered, staring at your flushed face. Not saying a word, you held out the paper to him. He shook his head at the gesture.

'That's for you, not me,' he mumbled, looking away with a blush forming on his cheeks. You held back a gasp. _Matthias is blushing? Impossible!_

'Please, I want you to read it,' you pleaded, batting your eyelashes at him. 'You are the only one I trust.'

Matthias snapped his gaze to yours and let a smile pass his lips before taking the letter. You watched his blue eyes scan the page and his eyebrows raised knowingly.

'Oh ho! You've got yourself an _admirer_, _,' he teased, a smug expression on his face. You felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

'Shut up!' you hissed as Matthias roared with laughter. You gave him a smack on the arm which caused him to pout. 'Besides, I don't even know who it is! They didn't leave a clue.'

'Um... yes they did,' Matthias muttered, showing the writing to you, his finger pointing to a signature you hadn't even noticed. In the bottom right-hand corner were the letters _M.K._

'_M.K_? Who do I know whose names start with _M.K_?' you pondered, your brain working hard as you tried to remember all the men you knew.

'Matthias, help me out here,' you requested, your brow furrowed, missing the miserable expression on Matthias's face.

'Well, do you know anyone?' he asked, a forced smile on his face which you did not notice.

'There's that creep, Michael Krane, that works on the second floor,' you announced, a horrified look on your face. 'You don't think it's him, do you?'

'No, he's gay,' Matthias told you, a smirk playing at his lips. 'I mean that literally. I saw him full on making out with Joshua Thoms in the men's, near the boss's office.'

You cringed at that thought. You began to feel sorry for Joshua for if anyone had to survive the wrath of Michael Krane... you couldn't bear to think of the consequences.

'In that case, thank the Lord it's not him,' you sighed gratefully. 'What about Matthew Kime? He seems rather nice.'

'He's getting married, (Name),' Matthias said wearily. 'His fiancé is that woman that types all day – um, what's-her-name...'

'Sally Monegrane?'

'That's the one.'

You were beginning to get frustrated. You grabbed the letter from Matthias's grip and read it again, trying to place the words to a face, ending up with nothing.

'I don't know!' you cried, setting the paper down and burying your head in your hands. 'I honestly don't know. I wish I could –'

What you wished, Matthias never found out because the sound of a scraping chair caught your attention. Suddenly, two hands had cupped your cheeks and your lips were pressed against another's. The world went blank as two words went into your mind. _M.K. Matthias Køhler. How stupid am I?_

You slowly started to respond, running your fingers through Matthias's spiky hair as you kissed him harder. His own hands moved from your cheeks to your (h/c) locks and shoulder.

When it became hard to breathe, the pair of you broke apart. Matthias gazed at you lovingly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

'Be my Juliet, (Name)?' he whispered, leaning forward and brushing his lips on yours.

'Only if you're my Romeo,' you replied cheekily, kissing him again and resting your forehead on his. 'Happy Valentine's Day, Matthias.'

'Happy Valentine's Day, my gorgeous one.'

* * *

**A/N: Happy Valentine's Day~**


	3. No Matter What

**A/N: Here's some more Denmark. Seriously, I love writing Denmark - he's such a cutie! This was a request from Purichie on Deviantart.**

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderfulness of Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

* * *

Yawning as softly as you could, you felt the two strong arms around your waist tighten their grip. Blinking the sleep out of your (e/c) eyes, you locked your gaze onto your husband's soft, snoozing face and a smile formed at the corners of your mouth. His exuberant blue eyes were hidden as he dozed and his eyebrows were contracted slightly, making him look as though he was trying to solve some difficult Maths equation; his usually gravity-defying hair was flat against his forehead and his lips were parted, quiet snores emitting from them._He looks so cute,_ you thought, cooing internally as you grazed his cheek lightly with your fingertips. He fussed a little in his slumber and brought you closer to his toned chest, nuzzling his chin in your (h/c) hair.

Memories of the previous night flitted in your mind as your eyes took in the scene in front of you. _I had wondered why I was nude,_ you thought to yourself and you felt your cheeks go hot at the thought.

'(Name)?'

Looking up, you saw your husband pry one azure eye open blearily. You leaned up and kissed him gently on the lips, running your fingers delicately through his blonde hair.

'Good morning, darling,' you purred and you sent him a warm smile. 'Sleep well?'

He smirked, humming in response as he pecked your shoulder. Running his nose along the crook of your neck, he gave you butterfly kisses on the exposed skin, trailing up to the shell of your ear where he licked it experimentally.

'I most certainly did – did you have any trouble containing the awesome last night?' he asked huskily, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

'Matthias – you are starting to sound like Gilbert,' you told him, giggling at the childish pout that had replaced his confident grin. 'But yes, I contained the awesome.'

A large, toothy smile went across his face and he murmured, 'Good,' before pressing his lips to yours in a lovable, passionate kiss.

You had always been told by your friends that Matthias was not the right man for you, even after four blessed years of marriage. They told you that he was too clingy, too sexually needy, too overprotective. Oh, how you longed for them to see him now: sweet, gentle, yours. He made you feel as if you were the only girl in the world and he let you know it as well; he made the little things count, made them important. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have met him all those years ago, to have married him.

However, after yesterday's devastating news, you agreed with your friends about one thing: Matthias did not deserve you. No way did he deserve you – he deserved someone who would make him happy, who would always be there for him and bring him joy in life. You felt that you weren't worthy to him any more, that you would take him down with your sorrows.

Because you had been so upset, you had released your suppressed emotions onto Matthias and had ended up making love all night. You didn't dare tell him the reason behind it; you couldn't bear to think of facing his disappointed expression.

'Hey – what's the matter, min kære? Why are you crying?'

Snapping out of your thoughts, you raised your hand, your fingertips touching your moist cheeks. Feeling highly ashamed, you turned away from Matthias, your bare back facing him. You buried your face into your pillow, trying to stop the tears falling from your burning eyes.

'(Name)? Tell me what's wrong! You're scaring me,' Matthias mumbled worriedly, placing a hand on your arm.

You shook your head into your pillow and let out a choked sob as the words that had changed your life forever forced themselves into your mind: _'I'm sorry, Miss (Name), but I am afraid that it is not good news.'_

Suddenly, you found yourself face-to-face with Matthias as he spun you back around. His blue eyes were filled with anxiousness and a fiery determination. He enfolded his arms around you and locked his hands at the small of your back, pinning you in your spot.

'Tell me,' was all he said, his blue gaze fixed on you. You had never felt so shocked in your life. Matthias was being deadly serious, which was something that did not occur often. Taking a deep breath, you came to a conclusion: you had to tell him.

'Well,' you began in a whisper, more tears spilling onto the pillow, creating little wet circles. 'I had been wondering about something for a while now and I thought it best to visit the doctor. You see, I had noticed that I haven't been… late, so to speak…'

You trailed off and you saw a puzzled expression on Matthias's countenance.

'What do you mean?' he inquired, rubbing soothing circles on your back. 'What did the doctor have to say to that?'

Mouth opening and closing, it took you a couple of seconds to find the right words.

'W-What I mean is that – that I – I CAN'T HAVE CHILDREN!' You screamed and wails of grief filled the bedroom as you screwed your eyes shut. 'You don't deserve a wife who can't bear you children! I'm a failure to you!'

The words that the doctor had uttered the previous afternoon hit you hard as you escaped from Matthias's embrace, grabbed your robe and ran out of the bedroom, a waterfall of misery coursing down your face.

Retreating into the bathroom a couple of doors down, you curled up into a ball on the chilly tiled floor and sobbed into your knees. You had forgotten to lock the door but you didn't care at that moment; you had told him the worst news a husband could hear from his wife: you couldn't give him a family.

You squeaked as you suddenly felt two warm hands grasp your cheeks and pull you forward, your gaze meeting Matthias's uncharacteristically stern expression. A feeling of dread flowed through your veins, clouding your senses; you were too frightened to think.

'Don't you _ever_ say you are a failure to me again, understand?' Matthias said harshly, his eyes boring into your (e/c) ones. You flinched at his tone and looked down at your feet, feeling too guilty to face him. Two fingers went under your chin and lifted your head, and you saw Matthias gazing at you sadly.

'You are not a failure, (Name),' he told you softly, sitting down on the ground opposite you. He drew you towards him and your head hit his torso as his arms settled around your hips. 'The truth is, I don't deserve you. You are everything I have wished for and more. You're kind, caring, funny, intelligent and so damn fine it's unbelievable.'

A chuckle bubbled from your throat, sounding strained to your ears. Matthias kissed the top of your head and rested his cheek on it, caressing your back with his large hands comfortingly. You hugged him tightly, snuggling against his firm body.

'As for not being able to have children,' he continued, his voice echoing in the room. 'I assume you found out yesterday?' You nodded, embracing him closer.

'So that's why you went all out on me last night,' he muttered and you couldn't help but laugh at that.

'I'm sorry,' you said, raising your arms and wrapping them around Matthias's neck, your fingers playing with the little strands of hair there.

He shook his head. 'Don't be. You have every right to be upset.'

'Aren't you?' you asked him abruptly, watching him. Matthias cupped your face in his large hands, his thumbs rubbing along your cheekbones. You were startled to see his blue eyes shining with unshed tears and a single one fell, creating a path down his face.

'I would be lying if I said no,' he admitted and he leant forward, brushing his lips on yours before kissing you hard. You responded instantly, your hands disappearing into his blonde hair, making it stick up again. Hands going wild, you poured all of your emotions into the kiss, wanting Matthias to understand your pain, to feel it. The pair of you broke apart and Matthias had a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

'Careful, (Name). We don't want a repeat of last night,' he rumbled, scanning your expression with half-lidded eyes. You scoffed lightly and whacked him playfully on the arm.

'Ow – that hurt!' Matthias whined childishly, rubbing his arm where you hit him. You sniggered but it was short-lived for your miserable expression returned almost immediately. He saw the change and said, 'Hey, let me tell you one thing, sweetheart: no matter what happens, no matter what obstacles we have to go through, I will always love you. I love you to heaven and back, with all my heart. Nothing, even not being able to have children will change that. Jeg elsker dig – forever and always.'

Your heart soared at his words and you spoke the first thing that came into your mind, 'Matthias, Jeg elsker også dig.'

A genuine smile flitted across Matthias's features as he kissed you again and picked you up from the floor in his arms.

'Now, let the King make you breakfast and we'll get into business, ja?'

You hummed in reply and pecked the tip of his nose as he carried you downstairs into the kitchen. At that moment, you really wanted to prove to your friends that Matthias was not the right man, but the perfect one.

_Two Years Later_

You couldn't believe it as you stared down at the thing in your hands. After two years of trying, it was finally happening. Happiness flooded your being and you sprinted downstairs in search of your husband.

'Matthias! Matthias!' You called, running out into the garden where Matthias looked up in curiosity, the garden hose in his hands. Not wasting another second, you showed him the results in your palm and watched his puzzled expression turn into an elated one.

'You're –' he choked out and you nodded vigorously before he could finish. With a cry, the hose went down as Matthias picked you up and spun around, his joyful laughter filling the air. You laughed along with him, wrapping your arms around his neck in delight. The hose was drenching you both but neither of you cared.

He set you down on the grass and kissed you passionately, one hand running down to rest on your stomach, where it stayed for a while. You were happy beyond your wildest dreams and you gazed at Matthias's teary face, his smile contagious. No matter what, he had stayed with you all these years and now a bundle of treasure was on its way, ready to start a new chapter in your lives.


	4. What Does That Mean?

**A/N: It's time for some Norway! Norway is so much fun to write. Like, really fun to write. This is a contest entry, again, on Deviantart and I am really proud of this one.**

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderfulness of Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

* * *

A strong, billowing wind blew amongst the cold, evening air, passing through the branches of the endless towering trees; their spines were bent forwards and their leaves twisted and swirled, creating a natural ensemble, the sky their stage. Snow drops the size of rocks pelted down on the frozen ground, coating the lush blades of green and yellow in a thick, white blanket. Dark, monstrous clouds covered the glimmering balls of fire, hiding their true beauty from the rest of the world below.

Nature sung the old songs of the chilly season, danced the tales of their history, created a show that she couldn't tear her eyes away from. She sat at her window, her large, (e/c) orbs wide with curiosity and awe, watching the storm unfold into its next number. It never fazed her of how dazzling and wonderful it was – it left her breathless and wanting more.

'Elskling?'

Looking into the reflection of the glass, she saw two illuminating spheres of azure staring at her, alight with mild amusement. The corners of her lips lifted and formed a radiating smile on her (s/c) countenance.

'Are you ever going to tell me what that means, Lukas?' she queried, spinning round in her spot and gazing into the real pools of cerulean. A miniature smirk played at Lukas's mouth as he joined her, handing her a chipped mug of warm drink.

'All in good time, (Name),' he replied simply, taking a dainty sip from his own cup. Rolling her eyes, she cupped her hands around the china, her freezing fingers seeking heat. The sweet smell of citrus hit her nose and the soothing liquid sent pleasant shivers down to her tips.

Several flakes of snow had plastered themselves on the smooth pane, shaping icy patterns along the edge, merging efforts with the frost that was already creeping outwards. She traced the spiky, glaciated display with a delicate finger, marvelling at how this was made within a few mere minutes; a trail of where her tip travelled stood out amongst the condensate, disappearing as she went further.

'I'm glad I'm not out there tonight,' Lukas mumbled into the silence, regarding the blizzard that raged on with a raised eyebrow. She brought her knees up to her chest and shook at the idea of Lukas being slapped by the brew of winter on his boat. Secretly, she was delighted to have the Norwegian man's company and relieved that his expedition had been called off due to the treacherous weather. She couldn't bear to think of what might of happened to him if it had gone forward.

'I couldn't agree more,' she stated lightly, nudging Lukas with a sock-clad toe, a cheeky expression growing. 'So, are you going to tell me what the word means?'

Lukas blinked numerous times, his face unreadable. He set his drink down on the windowsill, running a hand through his silky, blonde hair as he sighed.

'Why are you so keen to know?' he asked exasperatedly as he leant forward, elbows sitting comfortably on his trousered knees.

'Well, you're constantly calling me that and I would like to know,' she reasoned, her brow furrowing. 'If you're calling me an idiot in your tongue –'

She broke off as Lukas chuckled softly, the sound angelic to her ears and she felt her heart flutter. Over the many years she had known him, her friendship with Lukas was something she always had questioned. For her, it was love at first sight and she was apprehensive to ask Lukas if he felt the same way for her. She was in two minds perpetually: ask him and face rejection or live as normal, never knowing if he actually did return the feelings. Just thinking about it made her groan and want to bang her head against the wall.

'What did you say, elskling?' Lukas inquired, a hint of puzzlement flashing across his irises. She stiffened, horror etched on her face. _Did I just say all that out loud?_ She panicked, her mind reeling and her orbs round.

'N-Nothing!' she said hastily, laughing it off awkwardly. Lukas looked unimpressed and shifted his position until he was inches away from her face. Feeling extremely nervous, her cheeks flamed at the close contact and her breathing quickened considerably.

'You, are a terrible liar,' Lukas murmured, his head moving towards her ear, his breath hot on her skin. 'Do you really want to know, _?' he rumbled, taking her mug and putting it down next to his.

Letting out a tiny squeak, she gasped out a croaky response of affirmation. This was the reason she loved him: he could make her melt with the lightest of touches, warm her with the smallest of smiles and send shudders down her spine with the softest sounds of his monotone voice. However, aside from all that, she did not find him an attractive man – on the contrary, she thought he was beautiful. His tall, slender figure was perfectly built just for him and her hugs, which she was fortunate enough to do daily; his golden locks of hair were glossy, one side held back with his signature, silver cross barrette and his deep depths of blue shimmered with mixed emotions every time they settled on her. She could never get enough of this gorgeous being and it made her chest ache knowing that he wouldn't ever be hers.

Moving back a little, Lukas locked gazes with her and she was startled to see sincere affection written across his features. It was rare for him to show any emotion, let alone the amount he displayed now: a hint of a laugh, a quirk of a grin, a sweep of a touch – that's all he ever seemed to relate with. She had always known, deep down, that Lukas had trouble revealing his true feelings, was a bit shy to be extravagant in front of others.

She had been lucky to have encountered him one time when he was reading a book, completely alone and bundled within layers of blankets. A few pages from the end, Lukas's brow was furrowed and she had noticed tear tracks visible on his skin. He had looked up, sensing her presence and let out a sob, placing the book down and raising his arms childishly towards her.

Rushing to his side, she had wasted not even a second before embracing him, stroking his hair. She had soothed him whilst he cried into her chest and choked out nonsense in Norwegian. To this day, she still did not know why he had been so upset but was an incident she would never forget; his pools had been swimming with tears and filled with waves of sentiment, and she had instantly lost herself in them.

Jumping slightly, she was snapped out of her thoughts as Lukas slowly tucked a loose curl of (h/c) behind her ear and placed his hand on her burning cheek, cupping it subtly; her heart at that moment was hammering at the speed of a mile per hour.

'"Elskling", (Name),' he began, licking his lips and leaning a bit closer, 'it means "darling". I call you that for a reason.'

'O-Oh?' she stammered, cursing inwardly at herself for her sudden shyness. He gave an imperceptible nod, focusing on her with hooded eyes.

'Ja,' he muttered, advancing even more. His mouth brushed hers with the gentlest of caresses, whispering, 'because, (Name), Jeg elsker deg. Always have.'

Before she could react, even to blink, Lukas had pulled her in for a solid, hungry kiss. Her head spun, all her thoughts swimming, unable to send her messages. The only thing she could do was carefully raise her arms and wrap them around Lukas's neck, deepening the kiss, her lids falling shut in fervour. He brought her into his lap, his hands instantly disappearing into her (h/l), (h/c) hair as he parted his lips, the graze of his tongue wordlessly asking for permission. Not hesitating in the slightest, she let him in, squealing internally at the fact that her dream of fourteen years was finally coming true.

He explored the inside of her mouth, earning quiet moans from her as he hit the sensitive spots within. Not wanting him to be unjustified and left out, she mirrored his ministrations, his faint growls pleasing her immensely. She poured her heart and soul into the kiss, wanting Lukas to feel and understand her love for him. Her fingers scraped his scalp, pulling softly and Lukas responded immediately. Their fixture became heated and she received vast volumes of feeling from the striking man in front of her.

She never wanted the moment to end.

After a couple more barters of passion, they reluctantly broke apart, taking deep gulps of blessed air. Lukas still had his eyes closed as he rested his forehead on hers, his arms hugging her waist. She rubbed her nose against his tenderly, giggling at the confused expression on his face. He opened his orbs and she saw that they were glazed over with dopiness from her action. Pecking the top of his cheekbone, she cuddled him tightly, relishing the comfort and the safety of his hold.

'Now, that's one thing I understand,' she said aloud, nuzzling her chin into his shoulder. 'Oh, Lukas… I love you too – so much.'

Lukas made a happy little sound at her declaration, placing a sweet smooch on her neck. She hummed joyfully, taking in the smoky, salty scent of the Norwegian – it was addictive, intoxicating, and now that she knew his true feelings, she was never letting him go.

'When did you realise?' Lukas queried, his voice being muffled by her woollen-covered shoulder. 'You know… that you loved me?'

She took a moment to consider her answer and decided on the truth.

'From the minute I laid eyes on you, to be honest,' she admitted, blushing slightly, hiding her face in the crook of Lukas's neck. Lukas pulled away, his cobalt-hued irises boring into hers, holding pure bliss in them. A genial grin went up to his ears as he cradled her face in his hands, treating her as if she was made of glass.

Bewilderment coursed through her veins at the sight. Never before had she seen Lukas glow with so much happiness; it was a new thing and it warmed her heart tremendously, the only thought on her mind being: _He looks more handsome like this…_

'Well, it's a good thing then that you're the one that I want,' Lukas confessed, placing a featherlike kiss on her lips. She beamed as he got her on her feet, intertwining his long fingers with her own, putting a protective arm around her hips. He lifted her other hand and guided it to his shoulder before burying his cheek into the side of her head. A simple melody provided by the gale outside was all that Lukas needed to move in small circles around her living room, leading them into a duo.

The pair of them danced along with nature's tune, whispering sweet nothings to each other and exchanging connections of love. His large hand seeped heat through her jumper and his other fit perfectly in hers as he made her whirl on the spot. Laughter bubbled from their throats and more signs of affection ploughed ahead, neither of them wasting a second before attaching themselves to one another.

'I love you,' she sighed, the lulling _boom-da-boom_ of Lukas's heart pounding in her ear.

'Jeg elsker deg… så mye,' he responded, showering her with kisses on the creamy skin of her face, neck, hands and fingers. Chuckling at the sheer delectableness of the situation, she almost missed the rapid, raucous knocking upon her front door.

'Leave them out there,' Lukas mumbled quickly, looking mollified at the guffaw that escaped her lips.

'Aw, but you know I can't,' she told him, patting his cheek. 'Besides, it'll be Matthias, not to mention it's freezing out there.'

'I still don't understand why you live with him,' Lukas grumbled, eyeing the hallway peevishly. 'In any case, he'll be fine. He's used to the cold anyway, being _Danish_.'

She cracked up, slipping out of Lukas's hold, blowing him a shy kiss as she sauntered down the frigid corridor. Opening the door once she had reached it, she came face-to-face with Matthias, who was shivering from head to toe, his chin buried into his scarf. His spiky, blonde hair was veneered with frosty flakes of white and his nose was red from the icy gust, causing her to think of Rudolph immediately. Letting out a concise snicker, she saw Matthias frown in puzzlement.

'What's so funny?' He stepped into the house, shutting the door with his foot. 'Is there something on my face?'

Shaking her head, she gave him a smug look, saying, 'you forgot your keys again, didn't you?'

'I was in a rush this morning!' Matthias defended, raising his gloved hands up in surrender. 'You know what Berwald is like.'

Snorting in glee, she nudged the Danish man playfully and retreated down the way she came, calling back to him, 'dinner's in the oven!'

As she was about to turn the corner into her toasty, cosy living room, the sound of someone singing and humming caught her attention. She paused at the entrance, peeking into the space, her (e/c) – hued eyes taking in a waltzing Lukas. His spindly limbs were moving gracefully, his orbs shut in serenity as he swayed around on the spot.

'Hun elsker meg, hun elsker meg,' he sang, 'og jeg elsker henne. Oh, lykkelig dag!'

Even though she didn't understand a single word, she couldn't help but smile hugely. The curve of Lukas's mouth matched hers as he spun and twirled, obviously in his own little world. He crooned the same words, each time his voice getting a little louder; she really wanted to know what they meant and if they had any reference to her.

Cat-like, she crept silently into the room, the tips of her sock attired feet touching the ground daintily. She covered her mouth, shielding the bout of laughter that was about to burst out; she stepped into line with Lukas with a grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat's.

'What does that mean?' she breathed into his ear, causing the poor man to jump out of his skin. He swivelled around in alarm, his cheeks dusted pink, his expression clearly embarrassed; his sapphire coloured eyes shone with shock and were round as dinner plates.

She blinked at him innocently, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her nose to his. He tensed at her action but then gradually relaxed, his breath ghosting on her forehead as his lips skimmed over.

'What does that mean?' she repeated, 'please tell me, darling. You sounded so happy when you were saying it. I would like to be part of that happiness.'

'You already are,' he answered wistfully, 'how could you not be? You are the only thing that has made me feel this way towards anything – and that's saying something.'

A flush of red spread across her countenance and an appearance of bashfulness moulded through her features. Lukas beamed warmly at her, putting his soft, delicate lips on hers briefly, laughing lightly.

'Hun elsker meg, hun elsker meg, og jeg elsker henne. Oh, lykkelig dag,' he murmured against her mouth, his long lashes tickling her flesh. '"She loves me, she loves me and I love her. Oh, happy day."'

The beating mess of emotion in her chest soared at his words, tears of sheer adoration and tender love forming at the corners of her (e/c) irises. Lukas looked shyly away, his face redder than any tomato or beetroot she had ever seen. She turned his head and kissed him thoroughly, running her fingers through his fair hair.

'That's one of the sweetest things anyone's ever said to me,' she mouthed, 'thank you, Lukas.'

Lukas said nothing but his pools of navy glistened with fondness. He leant forward once again, about to kiss her more when a brassy, very familiar voice cackled in the silence.

'_Oh my God, Lukas has got a girlfriend!_' Matthias hollered, the cheekiest smirk he had ever had plastered on his face. 'Now this I would never have guessed. Ha, take that Berwald – I told him you guys liked each other but did he believe me? Not in the slightest. Oh ho, wait until he finds out about this.'

Oh, how she wanted to strangle him then: he had ruined the perfect moment, blabbering about how he was right about their relationship. Before she could make the move to go on with her mindful threat, she was grabbed by the wrist and spun around, meeting Lukas in another vehement joint.

Casting the current cat-calling Dane from her thoughts, the only thing she focused on was the Norwegian man she was lip-locked with. She loved him, and he loved her – that's all that mattered.

But she would get Matthias later. She would make him pay but for now, she was content in the arms of her one true love.

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**A/N: And that's all for now, folks. Expect some more in the near future.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated.**


	5. Mio Bella Ragazza

**A/N: Hello everyone! Here's the next reader and this time, it's Italy~ That adorable little Italian :D This was a request from A-chan-The-Great on Deviantart.**

**So, it's now the holidays in Australia so hopefully I'll be able to update on my other stories. So keep an eye out for those.**

**In the meantime**

**ENJOY **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderfulness of Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

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Balmy rays of the fiery sun caressed your face, casting dark shadows upon your (s/c) complexion. Back pressed against the support of your rocking chair, you swung forwards and backwards, the peaceful atmosphere calming you. Seated on your veranda, a large stretch of emerald lawn could be seen, going as far as the horizon, where the golden globe was sluggishly sinking beyond. Trees swayed softly in a blithe breeze, ruffling the slight, jade leaves gracefully.

In your hands you held a large paperback, your dainty fingers leafing through the pages as your eyes darted back and forth over the inky mess of emotion, swift imagery, passionate language and developing plot. You were completely mesmerised, not taking in anything else around you but the words on the paper; your heart and mind absorbed every happening, every nook and cranny of the tale.

The light slowly began to fade, much to your annoyance. You didn't want to move from your comfortable, cosy spot or to stop reading. Sending a heated glare at the disappearing sphere, you gently marked your page with a fold of the corner, setting it in your lap. _Just as I was getting to a good bit,_ you thought bitterly, letting out a sigh and allowing your lids flutter shut in serenity, your head rested on the chair. Chirps and trills of the birds residing in the treetops and the rustling of foliage was what you heard, along with the hurried footfalls from the lodge within.

'Bella? Are you still out there?' a bubbly voice called, sounding worried. 'It's getting dark! I don't want you straining your eyes and I'm sure you don't want to either.'

A small smile formed on your face, your cheeks flushing at the thought of the Italian boy seeing you as you were now. However, you were too tired to move, let alone hide from him. _Why am I so shy around him?_

'Oh, there you are!' he exclaimed and you heard the soft pattering of excited feet come closer. 'Ah, she's asleep,' he said to himself in a whisper, right next to you.

There was a scraping sound and you almost jolted in alarm as a warm hand clasped one of your own, rubbing fond circles on your knuckles before pulling it outwards. Hot breath ghosted on your skin and a pair of velvet lips pressed themselves on the back of your hand, causing your cheeks to burn .

'(Name), you're so cute,' he cooed, brushing a few stray strands of (h/c) hair from your face. You opened one eye blearily, immediately locking it with Feliciano's brown ones, looking quickly away after a couple of seconds.

'N-No I-I'm not,' you stammered, bringing your arm away from Feliciano's grasp and hiding your crimson-hued countenance in your palms. A bright, cheerful laugh caught your attention; you peeked through your fingers and saw Feliciano with a radiant beam playing at his mouth.

'Bella, I thought you were sleeping,' he sang, scooting a bit closer to you. 'You're a good actress, si?'

You shook your head, your face still in your hands. Squeaking as Feliciano delicately took hold of your wrists, he slowly brought them away, replacing them with his hands. Face redder than a tomato and a beetroot combined, all you could do was stare at the pools of coffee-coloured orbs directly fixed on you, shimmering with tender love and kindness.

'There's no need to hide, (Name),' the Italian told you, leaning forwards until your foreheads touched. 'You're fine just the way you are!'

To prove his point, he placed his mouth on yours, kissing you with fervour, cradling your jaw in his palms. You erratically responded, trying to mirror his actions as you were unsure of what you were doing.

You loved Feliciano more than anything: the way he laughed, how his eyes lit up when he talked about his brother and Italy, the subtle, affectionate way he treated you left your heart hammering constantly. Everything about him you adored but you couldn't figure out why he loved you. What was there to like about you? – shy, introverted, always in a world of your own, you would think that people would find you useless and boring. Everyone, except Feliciano, the silly, lovable Italian boy who lived next door.

When he first requested you to go out with him, you had declined, but that didn't prevent him from trying again. For endless weeks, each and every day, he would scream from the other side of the fence separating your houses or stop you in the hallway on your way to a lecture, constantly asking the same question: _'Bella, will you have the pleasure of allowing me to take you to dinner, per favore?'_

In the end, you went, much to his delight and secretly yours as well. It was one of the best nights you had ever had and just as he was now, he had shown his love towards you with a simple, emotion-filled smooch.

But you still didn't understand why he loved you, of all people.

'Bella? What's the matter?' Feliciano queried, gazing worriedly at you. 'Did I do something wrong?'

Confused, you gave him an imperceptible shake of your head, replying, 'no, Feli. W-Why would you ask that?'

Feliciano said nothing as he let you go, his arms landing in his lap. His expression had dampened and the stubborn curl that stuck out from the side of his head drooped visibly.

'You're sad, bella,' he whispered, tracing his knee sullenly. 'I've done something to make you upset, haven't I?'

You were taken back, your orbs going round at his inquiry. Quickly raising a hand to your cheek, you were startled to find moisture there. _He thinks he made me cry,_ you thought and you instantly felt guilty. Nothing made you more miserable then seeing Feliciano unhappy; it seemed as if the world had lost its colour and had merely turned into a million shades of black and white – it was unnatural in every possible way.

'Feli… it's not you,' you told him, your hands delicately intertwining with his, your fingers tangling together with his. 'It's just… I w-want to know – w-why me?'

Now it was Feliciano's turn to be befuddled: he stared at you, his irises mere slits.

'I don't understand.'

Letting out a dejected sigh, you turned your head away, a feeling of embarrassment flowing through your being.

'I need to k-know why you chose me,' you said, 'a girl who's too shy to e-even talk properly! I'm always s-s-stammering, always running away from you, always hiding and – and I – I just don't know why! You deserve someone better – and I love you enough to give you that o-o-opportunity.'

Gritting your teeth and having the sudden impulse to sob, you snatched up your book and made your way to flee into the house. You were ashamed of yourself – you couldn't believe that you had taken Feliciano for yourself so selfishly when he could have a girl worthier than you. He didn't deserve you and you certainly didn't deserve someone like him.

Something caught your shoulder, causing you to drop your novel in surprise. You were spun round and met with a pair of lips, the force of them sending you flying into the wall behind you. They caressed yours hungrily, passionately and with so much emotion that it made your mind whirl. All you could do was stand, frozen on the spot, the sensations overwhelming you.

'Oh, (Name),' they mumbled at your mouth, moving backwards after a few moments. Feliciano twirled a loose curl of (h/c) in between his fingertips affectionately, his brown eyes boring into your (e/c) ones. 'I'll tell you why I chose you – because your mio bella ragazza and I wouldn't change anyone in the world for you. You're perfect to me and I find your shyness adorable! It makes me feel like I'm your protector.'

He pulled you into his torso, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his nose into your neck. Once again, your face turned a bright pink but you shakily enveloped your limbs at Feliciano's nape, your lids closing. You could hear his heart pounding in your ear and for some reason, it calmed you.

'Please, don't ever say you don't deserve anyone because that isn't true!' he mumbled into your ear. 'You're wonderful, lovely and so, so beautiful – inside and out. Ti amo, bella… ti amo.'

'I-I love you too, F-Feli,' you answered back, inhaling the scent of pasta and flowers that was the Italian. 'Grazie.'

The pair of you stayed in the same position, relishing each other's ardour until the crickets began chirping and the bullfrogs croaked in harmony. Feliciano took you by the hand, kissing your palm lovingly and started to guide you into the house. You let him, a genial grin splitting your cheeks and your chest lighter than a feather.

'Come on, bella! I have some pasta waiting for us inside,' Feliciano cried, his auburn hair glinting in the moonlight. 'I know how much you like my pasta!'

For the first time, with no restrictions, no stuttering, you let out a loud laugh, the noise echoing in the night. Feliciano swivelled at the sound, his irises the size of dinner plates but a smile that matched yours formed on his face at the glowing expression on your own.

Little by little, you would eventually break away from your shell and open yourself up to others. However, you were more than happy to be yourself with Feliciano, the silly, loveable Italian boy who lived next door.

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**There you have it~ **

**Reviews are very much appreciated. I love to hear constructive criticism from you guys - it helps me as a writer.**

**SO REVIEW AWAY~**


	6. Turmoil

**A/N: Hello~ Guess what? It's another insert! But this time, it's not really a romantic one...**

**This is a contest entry for historical based art that involves the Nordic countries. I decided to do the Winter War, which was between Finland and the Soviet Union that lasted from 1939-1940.**

**Now, Reader-chan doesn't get much of an appearance in this story because it is more based on the historical events more than the love story.**

**So yeah - sorry.**

**Anyway enough of me**

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderfulness of Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

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Cold – that's all he felt. The barren land around him was nothing but a glowing, bright silver, the flakes never ceasing to fall from the blinding sky above him. Tino wrapped his thick, woollen coat tighter around his shivering figure, snuggling his chin into the long, fluffy scarf around his neck. He was used to the frosty weather, as his country was like that almost all year round but the situation and the battle he had been thrown into sent shivers down his spine.

Everything was quiet, a slight howl of the wind being the only thing that struck Tino's eardrums. _Better than the endless guns and cannons._ He could see nothing but white, was nothing but white, from the hood on his head down to the shoes he wore. If anyone looked his way, the only thing they would be able to tell that someone was watching was the two pinpricks of violet gazing intently at them.

He let out a sigh, a puff of smoke escaping his chapped, frozen lips, the mist swirling in the air. It reminded him painfully of the long, cosy nights at his house, a mug of steaming hot chocolate in his hands and a warm chest as his cushion. Tino shut his lids as he thought of the tall man, a fond smile spreading across his face: ample, dark cerulean eyes behind rectangular spectacles, softening every time they settled on Tino, a ghost of a grin playing around his mouth; lank strands of golden hair covering his forehead, falling past his ears, silky to the touch; large, calloused hands resting on his stomach, protective and tender.

Tino made himself more comfortable behind the huge mound of snow, checked that his weapon was beside him and let his eyes close, the memories washing over him like a high tide. He could smell the woody, smoky scent of him, feel the velvet lips press on his cheek, hear the three words he cherished the most. Oh, he wanted to go home, wanted to see him after so long.

'Privyet, my friend.'

Orbs snapping wide open, Tino quickly scrambled to his feet, grabbing his gun as he locked gazes with a pair of lilac-hued spheres. A sinister, nasty laugh bubbled from their throats as they stared at the smaller man, their hands in their pockets of their lengthy, tan coat.

'Russia, get lost,' Tino warned, a hard glint in his eyes. Ivan merely raised an eyebrow and lifted his head, giving him an appearance of a challenger.

'I wouldn't be saying things like that, Finland,' he sang, which sent a chill down to Tino's toes. 'Especially when I've got something of yours.'

Tino snorted disbelievingly, his eyes going round when the faint _boom_ of a cannon went off in the distance. He aimed his firearm at Ivan, his mouth set in a thin line. The Russian chuckled darkly and looked down at his feet – or that's what Tino thought.

'He's a tough little one, isn't he? It's kind of cute!'

A grunt followed, a sound that made the bottom of Tino's stomach drop in terror. It sounded weak, hoarse and on the borderline of death – worst of all, it sounded familiar. Peeking over the hill of ice, Tino gave a heart-wrenching cry at the sight of a slender figure lying in the snow, their glasses askew, their fair hair matted with crimson.

'_What have you done?_' he hollered at the Russian man, leaping over the heap and taking Berwald's frigid cheeks in his gloved palms. His lips were blue, his breathing ragged and short; Tino was almost in tears at the vulnerable state his friend was in. The thin material of the Swede's shirt was soaked, his clavicles jutting out from behind the collar. His arms were exposed to the harsh, frosty weather, the pale skin covered in goose bumps. He looked as if he had been taken straight out of his home, most likely from his workshop. The Finnish man was furious.

'Sweden? Can you hear me?' he whispered, oblivious to what Ivan was doing behind him. 'Please, say something – anything!'

Silence awaited Tino, who was holding a baited breath. He couldn't lose Berwald, not him. He wasn't even supposed to be here, out in the depth of the battlefield. How Ivan managed to get him like this was beyond Tino; Berwald was not one to be easily snuck up upon for he had ears like a wolf's and senses sharper than a blade. He rubbed soothing circles on the fine cheekbones beneath his fingertips, coaxing the Swede to talk in a calm, sweet tone.

There was a broken, deep cough after a couple of strained moments, the sound rumbling through Berwald's torso. Tino's heart fluttered in relief at the noise, his strangled laugh echoing in the hushed area.

'Hej...' Berwald croaked, cracking open his azure irises to mere slits. A frown formed at his brow as he looked fixedly at the man in front of him. 'You're crying.'

Tino raised a hand to his face, his tips meeting moist cheeks. He gave Berwald a watery grin, replying, 'I'm just glad you're okay, Ruotsi, that's all. You scared me.'

A wave of serenity coursed through Tino's veins, more than glad at Berwald being conscious. He had the urge to plant kisses all over his skin but resisted, especially when he felt the cold metal at the back of his head.

'Surrender now, Finland, or suffer the consequences,' Ivan's menacing voice demanded and Tino was pulled to his feet. A moan of protest escaped the fallen man's lips as he attempted to get up and aid Tino.

'Sweden, don't,' Tino told him, his hands in fists by his sides. 'Just leave this to me.'

Berwald paid no attention to Tino's caution; he growled as he stood shakily, his appearance showing more emotion than both Ivan and Tino had ever seen before in their lifetimes. Ivan's grip on the Finnish man's shoulder seemed to falter and Tino took that to his advantage.

A startled gunshot rang through the air, one that triggered the hidden Finnish soldiers to fire in defence. Ivan let out a surprised grunt as Tino shoved him, reaching for the area adorned by the long scarf, the force of the attack sending the pair sprawling backwards. Having the Russian nation underneath him made it easier for Tino to tighten his hold on Ivan's throat, all his hatred against him powering his actions. Snarling, Ivan's digits clawed at Tino's hands, trying to pry them away from his neck unsuccessfully.

'This is for Sweden and my country, you bastard!' Tino roared, his grip getting tighter and tighter. Suddenly, his vision went blotchy as pain jabbed up his side and his back met the snowy ground. He saw Ivan scrambling towards Tino's gun that had probably gone flying when Tino bombarded Ivan.

Tino crawled after him, jumping onto his back just before he caught a hold of the weapon.

'You want to play dirty?' Ivan rumbled, his darkened orbs meeting Tino's. 'Then we'll play dirty.'

Rounds of bullets thundered around them, cannons exploding by the dozen. There was a vigorous battle between Tino and Ivan in amidst the firings, their limbs flailing as one tried to hit or kick the other, shouts and swears on both their behalves mixing in with the already deafening atmosphere. They rolled and wrestled, struggling to maim one another, their clothes dampened by the sleet. Tino smirked when Ivan yowled in agony as he hurled a swift kick to his stomach but his victory was short-lived as his cheek was met with the end of Ivan's fist, a squeak leaving his lips at the contact.

Suddenly, Tino felt his body leave the ground and then land ungracefully seconds afterwards, the momentum sending him rolling. Groaning softly when he came to a halt, he lifted his head and yelped when he saw Berwald looming over Ivan's fallen figure. He swooped down and grabbed Ivan by the lapels of his jacket, bringing him closer until they were merely inches away from each other's noses.

'Leave him alone,' Berwald said through gritted teeth and his eyes flashed dangerously behind his spectacles. 'Or I swear you'll rue the day you were born.'

Ivan laughed sadistically at Berwald's threat, shaking his head in denial.

'I forgot – you two are "best friends", da?' he whispered, his orbs narrowed, a cruel curve of his mouth gracing his features. 'I really should expose you both – think of the scandal! Same gender and lovers. Shame on you.'

Tino froze, horror etched on his face. _How on Earth did he find out?_ He panicked, his mind reeling. Berwald seemed to pay no notice to Ivan's comment but his knuckles had turned white from the effort of gripping Ivan's coat. A thick silence formed between the three, broken only by the yells and hollers of their men, and their guns and cannons going off. Tino sat in the spot where he was flung, his gaze settled on both Berwald and Ivan, his heart hammering uncontrollably in fear.

'However,' Ivan continued several moments later, 'I will cut you a deal.' He turned his head towards Tino. 'You give me the parts of your land that were originally mine and I'll keep your secret. No one will know.'

There was a pregnant pause before Tino charged towards Ivan, screaming, 'ARE YOU INSANE?'

Berwald, highly alarmed at Tino's outburst, let go of Ivan and quickly moved out of the way as the Finnish man launched himself on the Russian male.

'THE WHOLE POINT OF THIS STUPID, BLOODY WAR WAS SO I COULD KEEP MY RIGHTS AND MY LAND, YOU ARSEHOLE!' Tino bellowed, pounding every inch of Ivan he could reach as hard as humanly possible. 'So screw your deal – over my dead body will something like that happen!'

'So be it,' Ivan murmured and Tino registered a cry of terror before a loud _bang_ split the air. His mouth in an 'o' shape, he glanced down and saw red vividly blossom across his torso, staining his jacket.

'I win,' Ivan muttered into his ear, pushing Tino off him. 'And there's nothing you can do about it.'

Agony sharply shooting upwards, Tino's vision began to blur and darken before it fully enveloped him, his blonde head hitting the icy ground in defeat.

**oOo**

He didn't know where he was. Everything was black and everything was throbbing, screaming and drumming against his head. Words flitted in and out of his head, not making any sense to his sleepy brain. Voices were muffled to his hearing but from what he could tell, they sounded angry and worried. _What's going on?_

'I can't believe you did that!'

'What choice did I have? And it wasn't entirely my fault. I don't know what my government does. I have no say in the matter – none of us do. It's not worth it, (Name) – being a country does not have it's good points sometimes. This is one of those times.'

'But this is _Tino_ we are talking about! For goodness's sake, Berwald, I thought you loved him.'

'I do! I love him more than anything but you have to understand, I couldn't do anything but give that bloody Russian a broken arm, quite possibly a leg too. I didn't stay to watch. Tino was dying.'

'For the love of – do you have _any_ idea what kind effect that will have on him? This is his country, Ber, not yours. Whatever happens to Finland, it happens to him too. You would know yet you turned a blind eye!'

There was a _bang_ and the clattering of objects that to Tino sounded like pens in a holder and cups on a table.

'_It's not my fault!_ I tried… they never take our suffering into account when they make these kind of decisions. You know I would do anything to save him and I did as best as I could!'

A sigh followed this statement, then, 'I know you did. I just can't believe that they would be so heartless.'

'Be glad you aren't like us, (Name). Be very glad.'

Tino's eyes fluttered open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden flow of brightness. He took in a blue ceiling and, turning his head to the side, a familiar fireplace crackling with life. He was home.

'S-Sweden? You there?' he rasped, a light cough bubbling from his throat. The conversation that had taken place flew about in his mind, making it ache more from excessive thinking. Soon, he was met with a pair of cerulean irises, filled with concern and Tino noted a large, white bandage wrapped around the Swede's temple.

'How are you feeling?' Berwald asked him, kneeling next to the lounge, cupping Tino's jaw. 'Are you feeling any pain?'

Tino merely shook his head, groggily lifting a hand to put it on top of Berwald's. 'I'm just tired… but that's not important – what happened? How did we get here?'

Berwald stiffened, averting his gaze from Tino, something that made the Finnish man extremely alert and very awake. _Is it that bad?_

'Did we… lose?'

'Of course not!' a voice from the other end of the room exclaimed. 'But it's very complicated, Tino. You need to be rested before we start explaining.'

Another face came into Tino's view: a (s/c) complexioned countenance, with large, (e/c) spheres, (h/l), (h/c) locks and a hardened expression. She placed a palm on his forehead and brushed away a few strands of gold.

'You sure know how to worry me, veli,' she whispered, looking sadly at him.

'I'm sorry,' he told her as he slowly sat up. 'Really, I am but I need to know what's going on. What has Russia got planned?

He watched as she and Berwald exchanged a look, having some kind of mental discussion before Berwald faced Tino.

'He got what he wanted,' was all he said but it was enough to make Tino groan, his head falling into his hands. _All that work – all those lives lost and all for nothing!_

'What else? What's happening with Germany and his lot?'

Another pause and another speedy switch of expressions.

'Let's just say things are not looking good for Matthias and Lukas,' she spoke up, twiddling her thumbs, 'and I am thanking God that nothing has happened to Emil.'

'Norway and Denmark? I need to contact them, to thank them before I forget,' Tino mused, his eyebrows contracted in thought.

'Whatever for?' she inquired, her own brows raised high.

Tino blinked several times before replying, 'for the volunteers. They needed them more than I did but they still sent them – and that goes for you as well, Sweden,' he added, sending Berwald a loving smile. He returned it and pressed a soft kiss to Tino's lips. 'Anyway, Germany's planning on invading Norway and Denmark?'

She and Berwald both nodded sullenly and Tino felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He had seen the effects of the invasion of the Nazis on Feliks and he shuddered at the thought of that happening to Lukas and Matthias. Neither of them had large armies and the last thing either of them needed was genocide amongst their people.

'We have to help them,' he concluded, a determined appearance forming on his face.

'Tino, as much I love them both very much, neither of you are helping anyone at the moment!' she scolded, clucking like a mother hen. 'I mean, look at you both! You're both injured and who knows? – maybe Russia has another trick up his sleeve.'

'She's right,' said Berwald, tracing the blemished wrapping that was around Tino's skinny chest. 'I don't want him hurting you again.'

At his words, Tino's heart soared then came plummeting back down at the thought of Ivan. He clenched the woolly blanket, his line of sight fixed on the ceiling, his mind whirling. It was only nineteen forty and already alliances had drastically formed in the little space of a year. Ludwig was a threat once again but this time, he had Kiku on his side and that was sure to be catastrophic. Arthur and Francis both had Ivan and Yao on their sides, though he couldn't hate them as much as he loathed the Russian – after all, they had tried to send aid.

He let out a breath that he didn't realise he was holding and locked his eyes onto Berwald's.

'I know, but we'll help them when the time comes,' he argued, taking hold of both Berwald's and her hands in his own. 'As for Russia – I'm not finished with him yet. To hell with what my government does, I'm going to show him what I can really do. Just you wait – this World War isn't finished yet. I've got plenty of time to take my revenge.'

Bringing up their hands to his chin, Tino pecked them both and shut his eyes, muttering one last thought, clear as a crystal and harsh as a lightning bolt:

_'I will get him back and make him wish he never crossed paths with me.'_

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it.**

**In case no one got it, the relationship between Reader and Finland is purely brotherly/sisterly. Reader is a mortal and she was raised by Finland since she was a small child. She is close to the Nordics and refers to them by their human names, not their country names.**

**Yeah.**

**And before I fly off, can you pretty please leave a review?**

**Thanks!**


	7. Stupid Hunks of Metal

**A/N: Hey! It's Iceland time~ Iceland's such a sweetheart - why are none of these sexy guys real D:**

**Anyway - this was a request from Sylphs-Arrow on Deviantart.**

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderfulness of Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

* * *

'God damn it all!'

Keeping your injured hand wrapped in an oil-stained cloth, you rush back into your house, hurrying into your kitchen. Your arm lifted high, you search for the sink, small beads of red dripping from the grimed material onto the tiles. Muttering curses at yourself, fate and the giant hunk of useless metal outside, you almost trip over your own feet as you put your wounded limb in the basin, dropping the filthy rag.

'Stupid, son-of-a-god…' you mumbled, washing off the dried flakes of crimson, hissing at the slight prickle as the water hit the cut.

You were trying, for once, to fix your pathetic excuse of a car and ended up hurting yourself on God knows what. Grumbling furiously, you proceeded to grab the first-aid kit that was situated on top of the fridge but destiny was against you for the second time that day. The box fell from its spot, spilling its contents everywhere, the pieces clattering nosily.

'I give up!' you wail, sitting down ruefully on a chair, careful not to step on any of the items. Your hand was raw, red and throbbing painfully. You wanted to cry, to scream at the world for being so mean.

'(Name)? Are you home?'

Breathing a happy sigh of relief, a smile formed on your face as your best friend's voice echoed through the house. You called back to him, not moving from your seat, wary of causing more stupid things to happen.

As Emil stepped into the kitchen, his violet eyes took in the mess and your pouty expression, his former grin fading at the sight.

'What happened here?' he asked, looking worriedly at your hand, his fine eyebrows contracting. You smiled sheepishly at him, turning away from his scrutinising gaze.

'Was trying to fix the car,' you said faintly and you were shocked to hear him give a slight chuckle.

'You silly thing,' he scolded lightly, brushing aside the pieces on the floor with his foot, creating a path from the kitchen doorway to you. When he reached you, he sat across you and took your hand in his own larger ones delicately, careful not to touch the wound.

Your heart fluttered, as it always did when Emil was around. He was the sweetest guy you had ever met, even if he was a bit introverted around others. However, whenever he was with you, he was perfect. You two did everything together, even the most bizarre things. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have met him.

Emil brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a feather-light kiss on your knuckles, which caused your face to turn a tomato-like red. Over the past couple of months, your feelings for Emil turned into… something stronger than friendship. Everything about the Icelander you loved: his lilac-hued irises; the soft locks of platinum on his head; the way his mouth seemed to curve when he smiled that special smile, just for you. Hell, you were in love with this guy.

'Let's get you bandaged up, shall we?' Emil muttered, ruffling your hair frivolously as he bent down to pick up the objects from the floor. Disgruntled, you fix your messed up hair and hold out your hand as Emil popped a bottle of disinfectant and a white bandage on the table. You eye the flask nervously, cringing at the idea of its substance being poured on your skin; you could imagine the sharp sting already.

Emil noticed your uneasy state and he sent you a reassuring smile, taking your hand softly in his.

'It'll be okay,' he said, 'besides, you don't want to have an infection, do you?'

'Of course not!' you scoffed, putting on a brave face, 'that's the last thing I need.'

'Then let me help you,' he groused, pouring the antiseptic onto a cotton ball. 'Hand, please.'

Reluctantly, you let Emil grasp your wrist, turning it so that the injury was facing the ceiling. A gasp flew out of your mouth as the monstrous, agony-bringing liquid settled on your skin, tears forming at the corners of your shut lids. Emil soothed you and you could tell that he was trying to cause you as little pain as possible by pressing as gently as he could. Your heart soared at his concern for you and that made the ache more bearable.

Tossing away the used cotton ball, Emil proceeded to wrap the bandage around the wound, again, using the same fragility as before. Making sure not to bind it too tightly, he went round your hand a few times before taping the end.

'There we go,' he told you, grinning at you whilst he admired his work. 'That wasn't too hard, now, was it?'

You whinged under your breath, causing him to chuckle blithely.

'Right, shall we go and see what damage your car is in?' he proclaimed in a professional tone, clapping his palms together and standing from his seat. You quickly clutched the end of shirt, pulling him back.

'Emil?' you began shyly, looking at him earnestly. 'Kiss it better?'

Emil blinked several times in surprise but then a fond smirk played at his lips, his lavender orbs glimmering with affection. He got you on your feet, pecked your bound hand and started to lead you outside.

'Better?' he asked, pushing open the screen door heading to the backyard. You hummed happily in response, your cheeks flushing scarlet, unbeknownst to Emil. _Why can't I just tell him?_ You asked yourself irritably as the pair of you stepped out into the garden. _I like him – why is it so hard to just say it?_ Sighing, you followed Emil to your trashed car, scowling at it.

'Whoa, (Name) – what have you done to it?' Emil whistled low and turned around to face you with a raised brow.

'Nothing!' you defended, crossing your arms over your chest. 'It was always a load of garbage, anyway. It never starts up properly and it just spouts out steam. No matter what I do, it just… dies.'

Both of you gaped at the lump of metal sitting in your driveway: its hood was open, soft wisps of white smoke emerging from the machinery within; small bits of grass and foliage was stuck in between the wheels and the roof was covered in twigs and multi-coloured leaves; small spots of bronzed rust decorated the entire silver coat. Overall, it was a wreck.

'Did you call anyone to have a look at it?' Emil inquired, still mesmerised by the vehicle.

'No, because I wanted to see if I could fix it myself,' you answered, huffing tetchily. 'But instead of fixing it, I almost killed myself.'

Emil laughed, striding towards the engine, leaning forwards to take a closer look.

'Let's see if I can do anything,' he said, his voice muffled.

You froze, trying with all your might to avert your gaze from Emil's behind, your countenance flaming at the sight. Your eyes darted around, landing on the trees growing in your yard and the cobbled pathway beneath your feet but they somehow made it back to Emil's rather attractive backside. It didn't help that he was wearing a pair of tight jeans that day, along with a shirt that rode up whenever he bent over.

From what you could see, the small of Emil's back was milky and deliciously pale; you found your fingertips itching to touch the skin, musing about how it would feel underneath them. His hips were slim, terrifically joining efforts with his figure to create a beauty. _When did I start to think like a guy?_ You thought in alarm, slapping yourself mentally, unaware that someone was staring at you.

'(Name)? Are you… are you checking me out?'

_Oh God._

'W-What? No!' you exclaimed, immediately snapping out of your thoughts at Emil's voice.

'You totally were,' he teased, walking up to you. 'Your cheeks are all pink.' He lifted your chin, your (e/c) irises meeting his amethyst ones. 'See something you like?'

Something inside you snapped – little resolve did you have left in your conscience but you thought, _to hell with it_ and with that, you crashed your lips onto Emil's. It was just as you had imagined in the many fantasies you had had in the past, only this was much, much better. His mouth moulded perfectly with yours and he tasted _divine_.

You felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around your waist as Emil deepened the kiss, his palms seeping warmth through your blouse. Fingers disappearing into his silky curls, you couldn't help the quiet moan that bubbled from your throat. You felt him grin against your lips before he moved back, hands settling on your hips.

'I'll take that as a "yes," ja?' he breathed, his chest heaving, his cheeks dusted pink. His lids stayed shut and he had a dreamy expression on his face.

'Well, it's not my fault you're extremely handsome,' you murmured, giggling at Emil's embarrassed yet flattered appearance.

'You can talk, missy,' he retorted, lifting you onto his shoulder and trudging back into the house. 'You need to stop looking so sexy, even when you're grumpy!'

Snorting, you pounded on Emil's broad back half-heartedly. 'Put me down,' you demanded.

'Nei,' he replied and you swore you could hear a smug tone to his voice, one that you usually heard in Matthias's one.

'Emil,' you warned, hitting him a bit harder.

'Nei. Not listening,' he sang, opening the door with his free hand.

'Now, Emil.'

'Nope, nei, no.'

'Emil!'

'I love you.'

About to swat him again, you paused, your limb in mid-air. His statement floated about in your head until it sunk in, the meaning causing you to smile tenderly. You racked your brain for the phrase that you made Lukas teach you in order to, one day, confess to the Icelander.

'Ég elska þig,' you whispered into his ear, mispronouncing it a little, placing a sweet smooch on his neck.

Seconds after the words left your mouth, your back met the squishy pillows of your lounge and a gasp escaped your lips. Emil immediately attacked your jaw, trailing kisses to your bottom, slightly swollen rim, tugging it between his teeth.

Perhaps the piece of junk outside was not a stupid hunk of metal after all.

* * *

**A/N: Now, the ending is left to your imagination! I am not continuing this, so don't ask for a second part. I now leave you with this sexy piece of ass known as Emil /shot**

**Reviews are very much appreciated.**


	8. Together

**A/N: Hellooooooo**

**It's been a while since I updated this story.**

**Sorryyyyyy**

**Anyway, this came to me in the middle of the night after reading an incredibly fluffy oneshot with Mini Nordics. I just had to write my own. And this is the result!**

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderfulness of Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya. **

* * *

You groaned in content as your tired body landed in the divan's open arms. Letting out a sigh, you rotated onto your stomach and snuggled into your soft, slightly chilly pillow, hugging it as your aching muscles relaxed. _Since when did I have this many bones?_ You thought, marvelling at how almost every part of your form was sore.

'At least the boys are asleep,' you mused aloud, allowing your lids to blink in fatigue.

It had been a long day and having five, lively boys took it all out of you – especially since they had gone to the nearby park to burn off their energy for the majority of the afternoon. Being the last day of the holidays, you had played football with them, rolled down countless grassy hills and sported them on your shoulders for piggy-backs one right after the other. Needless to say that when you were driving them home, your two youngest had both fallen asleep in the back seat and your oldest was nodding off in the front, jerking up every now and then to fight off the weariness.

A small smile formed on your face at the thought of your boys. Ranging from seven to twelve, from short to tall, you still couldn't believe how lucky you were to have them. The people that you often passed in the street would constantly comment on how beautiful they were, in which your eldest would retort, 'Beautiful? I'd say good-looking.' They would laugh at that and a grin would stretch to his ears.

Chuckling lightly, you peeked at the glowing red numbers on your bedside drawer, raising an eyebrow. _Strange, I thought it was ten o'clock,_ you wondered, reading two ones and two zeros. _I need to sleep..._

'MÓÐIR!'

The loud pattering of feet hitting floorboards caught your attention. You sat up in your bed, perplexed. The padding became louder as they came closer to your bedroom door and just as you supposed that the egress would slam agape, it went quiet. Your figure froze, waiting patiently, but when the silence grew denser, you rose from your crib and made your way over to the entrance.

When you opened it, you were met with the trembling form of Emil, your seven-year-old. His gaze was fixed on the ground, his bottom lip was quivering and his violet eyes were glazed and puffy. You noticed that he was squeezing the life out of Mr Puffin, his plush bird, in terror.

'Baby, what's wrong?' you asked, bending down so that your face was in line with his. Emil looked up, clutching Mr Puffin tighter. You cupped his cheeks in your palms, saying, 'Baby, you can tell me. I'll listen.'

At your touch, Emil stopped shaking and stared intently at you for several moments. Then he wrapped his arms around your neck, blurting out, 'The monsters hurt you and bræður mínir! T-They hurt you... and I couldn't do anything!'

Pity blossomed in your chest and you picked Emil up, heading back into your room, shutting the door with your heel. The child sobbed into your shoulder, obviously thinking that his nightmare was true.

If there was one thing that you had learnt over the years it was that your boys stuck together. At school, if one was being picked on, the others would immediately come to their aid, regardless of their size and how old they were. If there was an issue, they would put their heads together to solve it: you admired them for that. Poor Emil must have thought that he failed them due to his terrifying dream.

'Why don't you sleep with me tonight, hm?' you suggested and you felt Emil nod hurriedly. Pulling back the covers, you hopped back in, still holding Emil.

'M-Móðir?' he stammered as you lay down. He nuzzled into your chest and glanced up fearfully at you. 'C-Can you sing me a lullaby?'

A pang of surprise went through you at his request. Emil was hardly blunt and acted very mature for his age. He normally was the smart, mellow and modest one of the five, barely showing his true feelings and scarcely any emotion – although he did display more than one of his brothers.

You peered down at him, noting a deep blush spreading across his nose. Kissing it gently, you stroked his platinum locks, singing a song that your father had sung to you when you were young.

With your voice soothing and calm, Emil's spheres slowly started to droop. His tiny frame went limp and his breathing evened out at each note you crooned. Soon, he was slumbering away, his hands in fists by your shirt.

'Goodnight, baby,' you whispered, pecking his temple after you breathed out the last line. Emil fussed a bit at the action, cuddling Mr Puffin and moving a little closer to you. You tucked in him, bringing the quilt up to his chin.

Then, there was single knock placed on the wooden ingress before it opened a crack.

'Mor?'

Your head snapped towards the door, where the slender figure of your eldest son stood. He seemed embarrassed as he rocked backwards and forwards on his toes, his hands clenched by his sides.

'Well, don't just stand there, Mattie,' you told him, patting the free spot next to you. 'Come in.'

Matthias appeared reluctant but shut the door quietly behind him. He went over to you and sat beside you, his stare focused on his knees.

'What is it, sweetheart?' you asked him, sitting up, careful not to wake Emil. 'You had a nightmare too?'

'What, no!' Matthias denied, keeping his tone hushed. His line of sight found Emil and his expression softened. 'Is he okay?'

'He's fine,' you replied, your crown furrowed. 'Now what's up with you, mister?'

Matthias looked imploringly at you, twisting his digits. 'I'm scared.'

You blinked. _My Mattie? Scared?_

'I'm scared for them, Mor,' he continued, reaching over to pat Emil's head. 'I'm not going to be there for them any more. I'm their big brother – I _need_ to be there for them.'

Suddenly everything made sense. Matthias was due to start his first day of year seven the following morning, but since the others were still in their junior years, he was starting alone and away from them.

'And what if no one likes me?' he groused, pouting, his tousled, gravity-deviant curls sticking up even more as his fingers ran through them. 'What if they shun me because of who I am?'

'Matthias, listen to me,' you began and Matthias paused. 'The others are going to be alright and it's only a year before Berwald joins you.'

'But that's too long,' he complained, grimacing. You smiled at his obstinacy, very much like your own.

'I know, but it will fly by. And no one is going to shun you, darling,' you told him, grasping his palm. 'You are a very likeable young man. Worst comes to worst, you'll always have Gilbert and Alfred – but I'm sure the girls will certainly like you,' you teased, winking at him.

'Ew, gross,' he mumbled, sticking his tongue out in disgust. 'Girls are icky – except for you,' he added, beaming at you. He embraced you firmly, saying, 'Tak, Mor,' in your ear.

'Any time, Mattie,' you replied, taking him by the shoulders, your features contorting into a stern look. 'If anything happens tomorrow, Matthias – good or bad – you'll tell me, won't you?'

Matthias merely inclined his head in affirmation, shimming under the covers next to you. You arched a brow.

'I thought you were a "big boy" now to be sleeping with me?' you joked, ruffling his hair. He gave you a genuine grin.

'I think I can be a little boy just for one more night.'

Your heart soared at his words and you brought him and Emil to your chest, pecking them both on their hairlines. Matthias rested an arm on your waist and his head in your neck, his azure irises concealed by his shutting lids. Emil didn't make any large movements, but an adorable squeak passed his lips in his stupor and his mouth curved upwards almost inconceivably. Mr Puffin remained in his hold, his black, beady eyes watching him as if he were guarding him.

Subdued voices captured your consideration, your orbs trailing over to the door. You saw several shadows ripple from underneath the slash between the wood and the carpet as their owners moved around on the opposite side.

'Are you sure we should wake Äiti, Lukas? She'll probably be sleeping by now.'

'Tino's right.'

'Then where is lillebror and the idiot? They're not in bed and I heard Emil screaming before.'

'Boys, if you're going to talk, either get in here or go back to your room,' you scolded playfully, suppressing a giggle as your other sons yelped in alarm.

'And I'm not an idiot!' Matthias said indignantly, glowering at the entryway, crossing his limbs stubbornly over his chest, his tone drowsy.

The door opened for the third time that night and your eight-year-old, ten-year-old and eleven-year-old entered hastily, not wasting a second before clambering in with you, Emil and Matthias, Berwald stumbling a bit as he didn't have his glasses on.

'Shush, you're going to wake Emil!' you hissed and all your boys stopped, not daring to make a sound. Emil rolled onto his back, his arms spread-eagled, Mr Puffin lying on his torso. As delicately as he could, Lukas moved the youngest child so that his head was placed beneath his chin, giving him the leeway to envelop his arms around Emil's waist. Berwald and Tino huddled together on Matthias's side of the bed, Tino wedged between the two.

'Are we all comfortable?' you queried, laughing lightly at their persistence. 'Can we go to sleep now? You lot have school in the morning!'

'Oh!'

You watched in bewilderment as Tino scrambled out of the blankets, leaped over Berwald's tall form and bolted out of the room as fast as his legs could go. When you gave Berwald a questioning expression, he shrugged. 'I don't know,' was all he said.

Not even a minute went by before Tino was running back in again, climbing over Berwald's legs and wriggling into his spot. In his hands he carried what to you looked like an envelope.

'We were going to give you this tomorrow,' Tino murmured, his bubbly, lilac irises on Matthias. 'But I think now is a better time.'

Matthias's dark eyebrows contracted in confusion as Tino gave him the paper. Lukas, Emil stable in his hold, cautiously sat in your lap, staring at his older brother with a cobalt gaze. Slitting his thumb in the opening, Matthias pulled out another piece of paper, decorated with drawings and words. You gathered that it was a painting of some sort but you couldn't make out what was written upon it for it was too dark. Matthias, however, gasped, covering his mouth in shock. It was evident that he could read it perfectly fine.

'Y-You guys...' he whispered, his orbs shifting from one brother to another. Then, he did something you hadn't seen him do in a while – he hugged them all. Tears fell down his cheeks as he blubbered a, 'Tak. Really.'

You were very baffled, your mind in a state of surprise. Matthias was the child that had never cried, not even when he was a baby and here he was now, shamelessly weeping into the shoulders of his siblings. Not only that, but the others were willingly embracing their oldest brother back, smiles on each one of their faces. Emil, amazingly, was still fast asleep, perhaps too exhausted to be woken up again.

While they were cuddling, you picked up the paper, squinting in order to read what was on it. Your heart melted as the message written on it in Berwald's neat scrawl sunk in:

_Dear Big Brother,_

_Good Luck at High School!_

_We'll miss you and don't worry, you'll be okay. We'll always be in your heart._

_Lots of love,_  
_Your brothers,_  
_Emil, Lukas, Tino and Berwald_

Embellishing the corners and the white spaces were doodles of all of Matthias's favourite things, including a couple of other things, namely a puffin, a silver cross, a Father Christmas hat and a pair of glasses.

'I'm going to miss you all,' Matthias mumbled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He sent everyone a watery grin. 'Promise you won't have too much fun without me, ja?'

'Ja, we promise,' Berwald grunted, patting Matthias's head. 'Don't forget us.'

'Never.'

'Right, you lot,' you clucked, dishevelling each and every pale tress – save for Emil's – your countenance jokingly serious. 'It's almost midnight, it's a school night – _go to sleep_.'

None of them said another word, other than, 'Goodnight,' to you and each other, bringing the quilt up to their noses. You joined them, relishing in the warmth your bed provided; you pressed one last kiss to their foreheads before finally giving in to the comforting darkness, your sons' bodies curled against yours.

A part of you knew that your boys were always, no matter what, going to stick together. Forever.

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**A/N: I made myself squeal ^^"**

**Reviews are much appreciated :3**


	9. Complete

**A/N: My second reader-insert today. I'm on a roll~**

**This was a request from lemonhern on Deviantart**

**And speaking of requests, I have noticed a lot of you asking me for requests in your reviews. **

**I, currently, am NOT taking requests. So please, don't ask me to write any at the moment. For those who have asked, I'll put them first on the list when I start doing them again.**

**Okay? We cool? Awesome! On with the story!**

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderfulness of Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

* * *

She had always been fascinated in him, ever since she first saw him eleven years ago. There was an air of eternity, of a long, sad, lonely life around him. His expression continuously remained impassive, an aura of gloom surrounding his stature. His friends didn't seem to notice, but every time she saw him in the street, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy blossom in her heart.

A head of blanched hair, decorated with a silver cross clip, a face consisting of large, hooded cobalt spheres, sharp cheekbones and pale complexion, a figure slim and slender; she thought these features suited him well, suited him in a way that no other being could. She yearned to talk to him, but her voice constantly got caught in her throat, unable to convey her feelings and ideas about the man.

Every month, on a certain day, she would watch him and a small group of males forward into an official building opposite her residence, their shoulders hunched and countenances contorted in irritation. She had gathered from her observations that they did this against their better judgements, that they would rather be away from the very space they were heading into.

She watched them from afar, behind a blemished, square, first-floor window of her dingy apartment. A stack of paper lay in her lap, embellished with charcoal sketches and pen strokes to create a familiar memory. Angular shapes and patches of shading decorated the slight sheets which were ruffling lightly in the swift breeze that flowed through the crack in the open glass frame. A pencil twirled amongst her fingertips as she struggled to portray her vision onto paper.

The sound of the radio filled the room, soft music pumping quietly from the corner. It often inspired her to draw but she was rather tuned out today. The man refused to leave her mind and she dreamed about exchanging a conversation with him. _He would have a deep, gentle voice,_ she mused, beaming. _His hair would be silky and heavenly to run my fingers through it. His hold would bring me a warmth so intoxicating that I would instantly become addicted to it. He would smell like cologne, musky, but pleasant._

'We apologise to cut the program but there is breaking news,' the radio said, causing her to jump in surprise. 'It was viewed that the countries of the world have, once again, arrived to meet and discuss the world's issues. Mr Jett Kirkland, personification of the continent Australia has confirmed that the assembly is gathering at Sydney's State Parliament House, due to the Federal Parliament building in Canberra currently being in use. Government officials are asking –'

_How silly,_ she thought, rolling her eyes as she switched off the device. _As if there are people in the world incarnating countries._

It had been the same news for years: every month, these "personified people" would meet up to talk about what needed fixing in the world. It was rumoured that these people were actually centuries old and had witnessed countless wars, been part of economic crises, been torn apart as alliances shifted in the opposite direction. She didn't believe such rubbish.

Looking out when she sat down, her (e/c) orbs caught sight of the recognisable men and a smile spread across her cheeks. She could hear an obnoxious laugh pierce the discreetness and a few grumbles of annoyance. She let out a giggle as she placed her chin in her palm. Almost immediately did she distinguish the mysterious gentleman, his locks glinting in the rays of sun that embraced him. He seemed to be fighting off an urge of some sort for his physique remained rigid.

Frowning, she slid the window higher, poking her head out to figure out what was wrong. His friends had halted, gazing worriedly at their companion.

'Hej… you okay?' one asked, his darker shade of blonde curls sticking up in a stylish manner.

His friend merely nodded, waving a hand flippantly. The others exchanged puzzled expressions before trudging into the structure. He remained outside, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, his head tilting skywards.

Setting down the items she held, she continued to inspect him, a feeling of strong infatuation pounding in her chest. She didn't even know his name, where he came from or who he was, but she couldn't have helped but fall in love. There was something about him that drew him to her, something in him that she had desired for years.

Company and affection.

Her thoughts drifted, her heart swelling in melancholy. She had never had someone to hold her when she cried, to fill the hole deep within her soul, to share precious moments with meaningless things, like laughing at nothing and staring at each other sincerely forever. Never had she had someone to confide in, to tell them her innermost secrets, to let them love her for who she was. Never had she had the chance to be gratified.

She suddenly felt a sensation, one that told her that she was being examined. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she noted that the man she had been staring at was gaping back at her. Her body stiffened, like a deer in a car's headlights and her (e/c) orbs went wide.

Minutes passed with just the pair of them gawking at one another. She was too afraid to move and she was mesmerised from his azure gaze. She hadn't ever seen him up close before and a shiver of a thrill went up and down her spine. He was the most beautiful person alive.

'H-Hello,' she stammered, twisting her digits in nervousness. He blinked at her, slowly walking up to her. He moved with finesse but there was a slight anxious step every now and then.

'Hello,' he replied, reaching her and standing a few metres away from the window. There was a strained pause between them but not an uncomfortable one; she felt like she was satisfyingly trapped in his stare and that she would have it no other way.

'Have we met?' he asked, his head angled to the side in confusion. 'You seem familiar.'  
She blushed as she denied his query. 'I have never talked to you in my life. But…' She hesitated. 'I have been watching you. N-Not in a creepy way, I promise!' she added hastily, hiding her face in her palms seconds afterwards in embarrassment. _Idiot, _!_

A soft chuckle met her ears and she peeked through her fingers in bewilderment.

'Now I remember,' he stated, nodding. 'You're the girl that's always drawing when my brothers and I come here.'

'Y-You know me?' she squeaked, her senses tingling in shock.

'Of course – you're not the only one who's been looking,' he said lightly, smirking almost inconceivably.

Her face turned a beetroot red and his previous words floated about in her brain until something clicked. 'Wait – did you say your _brothers?_ I thought they were your friends.'

'Nei, they're not… unfortunately,' he mumbled, a slight sour expression forming on his face. It quickly vanished and was replaced with his usual blank look. 'They drive me crazy but… they are family.'

'I see,' she said, taking in his features, making sure she remembered each crinkle, each corner, each shade of colour upon his countenance.

'You know, I've always wanted to talk to you,' he admitted bluntly, his gaze not once wavering from hers. 'When I first saw you drawing at this window, there was something about you that drew me to you. I was just shy to do anything. But now… I'm glad that I mustered up the courage to do it.'

'I'm glad too,' she told him, bashfully turning away. A tiny grin formed at the corners of her mouth as she locked her eyes to his.

Before either of them could say anything more, a loud, accented voice snapped them out their reverie: 'Norway, you git! Where are you? The meeting's started!'

_Norway?_ She thought quizzically. _Isn't that –_

A gasp flew past her lips as realisation dawned upon her. Suddenly it all made sense. The isolated air around him, the monthly visits, the stories, the tales she heard all over the news, the internet: they all fit together like a puzzle. She had always thought that they were merely myths, things to not take seriously, that the people that said they had met these people were loons. She never took him as the kind to be one. _He looks so young…_

He looked at her, a sad smile on his face. 'You understood?'

She nodded, a hand over her mouth.

'Do you believe it?'

Another nod on her behalf.

'Are you scared?'

She slowly shook her head, stuttering, 'N-No. I just never thought… that you existed. I thought the stories weren't true. It seemed ludicrous – you know – that the countries of the world are actually people.'

'Sad but true, I'm afraid,' he whispered, his irises studying her. 'We haven't been properly introduced.' He held out his hand, his fingers beckoning. 'I'm Norway. You can call me Lukas.'

Taking his hand in hers, attempting ignore the spark that ignited when they touched, she replied, 'I'm _.'

Lukas gave her a smile, his grip tender. '_. It's beautiful.'

Her face went red at his remark, her palm still in his. Lukas moved closer towards her, rubbing loving circles along her knuckles. She flushed brighter, her heart hammering painfully against her ribs; she wasn't sure how she should react to his abrupt gesture.

'Lukas?' she began timidly. 'They said on the radio that you and the others are at the State Parliament House. What are you doing here?'

'You're one clever clog, aren't you?' Lukas gushed, a genuine grin playing at his lips. 'That's what we want the public to think. We don't exactly want to be swarmed by nosy hum – people, do we?'

'Yeah, true,' she added, her eyes fixed on his and her clasped hands.

The reports and blog posts she had read and heard over the years suddenly hit her with a full force. From what she had learnt in her History lectures, the Scandinavian countries had been around for thousands of years, suffered through countless conflicts with each other and the rest of the world, been through things she couldn't possibly imagine.

'_? Is everything alright?' Lukas asked, looking worriedly at her. It was the most emotion she had ever seen on him.

She vacillated before whispering sadly, 'You must be so lonely.'

Lukas froze, alarm flashing briefly across his cerulean spheres. He took a step backwards, their fastened hands breaking apart. She instantly regretted opening her mouth but she didn't take her eyes off his. _Oh, those eyes._ A flurry of mixed sentiments swirled in his pupils, constantly changing in a split second, and not once did they leave her face.

Her heart inflated in pity and empathy. She discovered that this was not how the normal Lukas would behave. She felt responsible for causing him pain, even if he didn't want to admit it.

'I could say the same for you,' he muttered before she could apologise, his appearance downcast. She sighed, not in the least bit amazed that he had noticed.

'Then I suppose we're two peas in a pod,' she stated, allowing herself to smile a little. Lukas inclined his head in affirmation, a quirk of a grin forming at his mouth.

There was a pregnant pause, then Lukas parted his lips: 'This is going to sound weird but… I have to tell you,' Lukas mumbled and she detected a dusting of pink on his cheekbones. 'I know we've just met and everything but, I look at you, _, and my heart speeds up. Feel,' he pressed her hand over the spot where his beating organ was and she sensed racy beats. 'This is what you do to me. When I first saw you – oh – all those years ago, I knew you were something special. I guess what I am trying to say here is… I love you.'

Breathing unexpectedly became harder for her and her spheres were round in disbelief.

'It's incredibly selfish of me,' he groused, frowning lightly. 'You're still young… and I'm an old man. Immortal. Kind of. Not really. Well, now that I think about it–'

'Lukas, stop,' she commanded, her voice harsh. Lukas appeared mildly surprised. 'I don't care how old you are, whether you're immortal or not – you're human to me. So stop classifying yourself.' She inhaled deeply. 'And I love you too.'

Lukas stared inanely at her and she could almost see the gears turning in his head.

'It won't last,' he told her, leaning on the windowsill, his nose inches away from hers. His warm breath tickled her flesh as he spoke, 'You realise that, don't you?'

'I know,' she replied, tracing the delicate line of his jaw. 'It shouldn't happen.'

'Nei, it shouldn't,' he agreed, edging nearer. One gloved hand rested itself on her cheek. 'We would both be heartbroken.'

'Yes, we would,' she said, leaning into his touch. 'We would be breaking all the rules.'

'Then I guess it's a bad thing that I often break the rules,' he mouthed, his orbs slits and focused on her.

'I do too, so that's okay,' she countered, tilting her head to the side and moving closer.

Then –

'NORGE! GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE!'

'I'm coming!' Lukas called back, glaring at the building behind them. 'Stupid Dane.'

A laugh bubbled from her throat, the sound echoing in the empty street. She was cut off, however, when something crashed down on her lips: smooth, delectable, warm. It took her a second to realise that Lukas was kissing her. All her dreams had come true in the one, passionate joint. She mirrored his actions, gently threading her slender fingers through his pale locks, her tips brushing against cool metal.

She knew what she was getting herself into, was aware of the consequences that awaited them both, but she knew that they wanted it badly. They needed each other to stitch the gaping holes in their souls, needed each other's warmth to thaw the coldness that grew around their bricked, emotional walls, needed each other to make them feel whole again.

They parted, only to reconnect again; her hands fisted his navy shirt as his held her cheeks like she was made of glass. Thousands of fireworks burst in her vision and she felt sparks ignite against their melding lips. When they separated, they did nothing but gaze at one another for several moments.

'You should go,' she panted, her lips prickling, 'before they send out a search party.'

'What if I don't want to?' Lukas retorted, pecking her nose. 'I rather like it here.'

'And what if I tell you I'll give you my number if you go?' she teased, a sly smirk forming. Lukas sent her a calculating guise before he nodded, digging around in one of his trouser pockets.

Grabbing her pencil and one of her favourite drawings, she doubled the paper and scribbled down a few figures and her name. She gave it to Lukas, who eyed it in puzzlement, taking it from her. Unfolding it, she watched as his orbs went from narrow to round as dinner plates, his eyebrows raising into his hairline.

'Keep it,' she said, 'to remember me by.'

'I couldn't possibly keep this,' he chastised, his voice low. 'You've drawn it too beautifully.'

'Please? For me?' she pleaded, reaching out to stroke his hair. His eyes fluttered shut when her fingers went through the golden strands, humming in content. He gave a nod and pressed his lips to hers once more, this one more passionate and desperate than the last.

'Jeg vil komme tilbake til deg,' he exhaled, the words dancing on his tongue. Lukas kissed her one final time, waved a hand and bolted off towards the authorised building. 'I'll call you later!'

'I'll be waiting!' she yelled happily. He smiled brightly, showing pearly teeth, his entire countenance glowing and disappeared inside. The instant was imprinted in her mind and her hand was itching. She seized another sheet of paper and her trusty pencil, hurriedly sketching what she had seen onto it, determined to catch every detail.

The promise that he had uttered floated in her head as she drew and a large grin was plastered on her face. She knew that he would keep it, even if they weren't destined to be together. She was looking forward to seeing him again and her heart finally felt complete.

* * *

**A/N: And there you have it!**

**Reviews are much appreciated~**


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